


I Still Choose You (The Public Domain Remix)

by mariana_oconnor



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Demisexual Bucky Barnes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Minor past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor past Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Remix, Soulmates at first kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariana_oconnor/pseuds/mariana_oconnor
Summary: Clint really didn't intend to do anything more than make a joke, but when his stupid 'soulmate' comment gets posted on social media, he ends up in a fake relationship with the one person he wishes really were his soulmate.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 44
Kudos: 565
Collections: Winterhawk Remix 2020





	I Still Choose You (The Public Domain Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i don't have a choice (but i still choose you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927199) by [1000_directions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions). 



> I loved [1000_directions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/profile) fic when I read it and I wanted to see just how more out of control things would get if the plot was transplanted into a slightly more canon universe, where Clint and Bucky are Avengers and the whole world is taken in by their con. I hope I managed to stay true to the original fic. If you haven't read the original fic, you definitely should. It's amazing.
> 
> I've never really written a demisexual character before, and I hope I managed to treat the subject with as much respect as it had in the original fic.

“So the prince kissed the princess, and as their lips touched for the first time, they felt the magic sparkling through them and they realised they were true soulmates,” his mom says, turning the page. “And they lived happily ever after.”

She leans down to kiss Clint on the forehead. Tonight is a good night. His Dad’s out at the bar - will be for hours yet, so Clint could pick whatever story he wanted. When his Dad’s in, he’s not allowed to pick the princess books. He’s not allowed to have a story at all half the time.

“Is it really like that?” he asks around a yawn as he buries himself in his blankets. His mother looks up from where she’s hiding the book away in their special treasure chest. The one Dad doesn’t know about.

“Kissing your soulmate,” Clint asks, rubbing at his eye. “Is it really all magic sparkles? Do you really just  _ know _ ?”

His mother smiles sadly.

“Of course it is,” she says. “That’s what everyone says.”

“But you don’t know?” Clint asks with a frown. She looks too sad for his small mind to understand for a second - like she’s lost.

“No, sweetie, I don’t know.”

“Doesn’t everyone have a soulmate?” he asks. “Isn’t Daddy your soulmate?”

“No,” his mother says, her voice brittle. Clint feels relieved at the confession. His parents relationship is so different from the ones in the books. Of course they’re not soulmates. Soulmates live happily ever after. “He’s not. And yes, everyone has a soulmate, but you don’t  _ know _ they’re your soulmate until you kiss them.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Clint protests. “I’m going to kiss everyone, then I’ll know.”

His mother laughs.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she tells him. “Now close your eyes, it’s time to sleep.”

“Not tired,” he insists around another yawn. “Tell me another story… please?”

“Not tonight,” she says, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “Sleep now.”

He falls asleep without realising it and wakes up later in the night to the sound of shattering glass and a raised voice.

He never sees the princess book again.

*

Clint doesn’t actually kiss everyone - there are a large number of people in the world who don’t want to kiss him, for starters - but he kisses a lot of people.

At first, every time is a disappointment, but kissing seems fun enough on its own, and when he gets a bit older, he finds what comes after is more than enjoyable. Clint learns a healthy love of mutual orgasms and by the time he joins SHIELD, he tends to think he’s pretty damn good at showing people a good time. He’s an equal opportunity slut, or so he likes to think, and he’s got a bit of a reputation, but he’s not about to feel ashamed of it.

He never sleeps with Phil - though he does kiss him, once, in downtown Tokyo. It’s raining and Clint’s heart is pitter patting at double speed, maybe from the high speed chase they’d just been part of, maybe just because he thinks he’s in love.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. Phil raises an eyebrow, but nods and Clint brings their lips together.

For the first time in years, he’s actually disappointed when he feels nothing but the familiar warm, pleasant enjoyment of kissing.

“Huh,” he says, pulling back. Phil shrugs a little. “Guess not.”

“It would seem not,” Phil agrees. And they go back to discussing their next step like actual professionals. Well, as professional as Clint ever is.

*

Natasha is a different matter.

They’ve been working together for six months when she brings up his reputation. Clint has been avoiding it, because he thinks that maybe she could be it. He’s almost too scared to try. He’s never felt this in sync with another human being. When they’re working together, it’s like she can read his mind. She keeps up with his harebrained schemes and last minute changes of plan, and he keeps up with hers. Everyone thinks that he’s the chaotic element in their partnership, but Natasha’s the one who suggests they zipline between two skyscrapers and bungee jump off bridges.

He’s not sure he could stand to kiss her and find out he’s wrong.

Natasha asks him about his reputation and she obviously knows the truth, but she lets him stumble through an explanation.

“Would you like to know?” she asks, gesturing between the two of them. Clint shrugs, because the answer is both yes and no, because  _ of course _ he wants to know, but at the same time, it feels like now there is still potential. But if they actually kiss, there’s the possibility of a no.

When they kiss, it feels different. It feels like there’s something there, just a tickle of sensation, and Clint thinks that maybe that’s it. But it fades quickly and there is none of that rush that people claim exists. He doesn’t feel overwhelmed with the need to kiss her again, although he does.

In the morning, they agree that it’s not them, although the night had been enjoyable. They slip back into their partnership as if nothing had happened. If Clint is good at anything, it’s working with people he’s slept with.

*

Now he’s an Avenger, he kisses them all, makes a game of it almost. Thor even does that dancing princess drop thing to kiss him, although they both know that Jane is his soulmate and no one’s coming between them. Tony, Clint kisses sloppily on the mouth in thanks for a nice cup of coffee. Steve kisses him as a dare, and Bruce… Bruce rolls his eyes and pecks him on the mouth once because Clint makes puppy dog eyes at him.

None of them is his soulmate, but Clint didn’t really expect they would be.

He continues as he’s always continued, kissing people who want to be kissed, and when they turn out to not be his soulmate - they never are - he’s more than happy to take them home if they’re interested. It’s fun and everyone has a good time.

*

Clint has done a lot of things he should probably regret in his lifetime, although somehow almost all of them have ended up pretty well, all things considered. He can’t complain a whole lot about his life as an Avenger, although fewer monsters in the sewers would be nice.

He can never regret falling in love with Bucky Barnes, although sometimes he thinks he should. It’s not that it’s something he chose to do, but when has he ever chosen to fall in love. This isn’t the first time he’s thrown his heart at someone but, like always, he hopes it will be the last. The problem this time is that Bucky is not interested.

Not just not interested in Clint, which would suck worse, to be honest. Bucky isn’t interested in  _ anyone _ . Clint isn’t going to ask if this is like a permanent thing, or if 70 years of hard brainwashing changed him. That seems both rude and invasive, and in the end it doesn’t even matter, does it? He’s never seen Bucky’s eyes linger on anyone in an appreciative manner. Bucky spends his nights alone or with the other Avengers, catching up with pop culture and hobbies like Pac Man gobbling up the little circles.

He’s been with them at the tower almost three years now, building himself up, and Clint’s been watching. That’s what he does, after all, he’s Hawkeye. It’s not really any wonder he fell in love, what with the way Bucky acts and looks and talks sometimes. He has this low level, deadpan humour that’s halfway serious every time and always catches Clint off guard.

And there’s that echoing sadness he sometimes sees in Bucky’s eyes when he thinks no one’s looking.

Sure, sometimes Clint thinks  _ maybe _ , but it’s a pipe dream. Bucky doesn’t kiss anyone, doesn’t seem to want to kiss anyone, isn’t interested in romance or sex or any of that stuff and surely… surely for it to be _ soulmates _ , it has to be mutual. So there’s no hope.

Doesn’t keep that stupid flame from burning, though, does it? It also doesn’t keep Clint from doing stupid stunts in the middle of fights whenever Bucky’s watching because he likes to show off a bit. Which, in turn, leads to Natasha cussing him out in Russian repeatedly for being a damn fool. The important thing is that he made the shot, though… And that Bucky saw him.

Clint makes them friends, or that’s how it seems. He turns up in Bucky’s doorway with pizza and hides out there with him. Even if there’s no chance of anything more, he’d be crazy not to be friends with the guy.

And that’s sort of why it happens - the thing he does regret.

December mornings are cold and grey, and the city doesn’t exactly look its best, but Bucky told him a few weeks ago how much he always used to love Christmas and so Clint is determined that this is going to be the best Christmas ever. And that starts with Christmas shopping - the old fashioned way - or so Bucky claims.

Clint’s scarf is old and his gloves have a hole in the tip of his right index finger, which he’s poking at as they leave the tower. They’ve barely stepped out the door when they are surrounded by swarms of cameras and journalists. Of course, they drift away when they realise that Bucky and Clint are not the fun Avengers, which is quite frankly unfair. They’re way more fun than Tony, who spends most of his time either making business deals or remodelling smartphones.

*

The decision Clint really should regret happens as they break for lunch. They’ve spent two hours elbowing their way through crowds to look at overpriced rubbish in shops flooded with generic versions of well-loved Christmas songs. Clint loves how over the top Christmas is - he’s currently wearing a Christmas jumper with a sparkly reindeer on it - but his eyes are starting to have permanent flashes in them from all the twinkling lights everyone loves so much, and Bucky is clearly at the end of his rope, shoulders tense, hands clenched around the handles of the bags he’s carrying, full of presents for the Avengers.

Clint makes an executive decision and sweeps them both into a small pizza place that’s one of his old favourites. He hasn’t been there in a couple of months and he’s not sure he’s ever had the chance to take Bucky there before. Inside the lights are softer and none of them are actually flashing, so that should help a bit, and the Christmas music is quiet enough that it provides a festive little hum in the background.

“Well that was…” Bucky takes a breath. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in actual fights that were less aggressive than that.”

“Yeah,” Clint agrees. “It’s an experience.”

“This is why you do all your shopping online, huh?” Bucky asks, looking around the cramped little restaurant.

“Not all of my shopping,” Clint says. “I actually really like it out here, but it can be a bit much if you don’t pace yourself.”

“Is that what we’re doing in here?” Bucky asks with a smile, looking around at the little restaurant.

“This is part of the Christmas shopping experience,” Clint assures him.

“Well, I have always said pizza is one of the most festive meals,” Bucky says wryly.

And that’s when everything goes wrong. Because Clint’s mouth has this thing where sometimes it just says things without him thinking about it. Often that’s really useful, because it means he can be as snarky as he likes on comms with Tony and not miss a shot. But on the other hand, sometimes he opens his mouth and really  _ really _ stupid shit falls out of it. Like right now, when he clutches his hand to his chest, flutters his eyelashes and says:

“My soulmate!”

Just as the waitress is coming to take their order.

It’s sarcasm, of course it’s sarcasm, but at the same time, there’s this little shard of wishful thinking in there that Clint can’t quite smother. Bucky grins, because he knows it’s sarcasm and the waitress sighs and clutches her notepad to her chest with a dreamy sort of smile because she does not.

“You’re so sweet,” she says. “Just look at you!” Clint blinks at her, then looks at Bucky, who looks just as nonplussed. “How long has it been?” she asks.

“Three years,” Bucky says slowly.

“Awww…” she gushes. “That’s so sweet. Well… how about this?” she leans in close. “We’ve got a special discount for soulmates just like you. I’ll sign you right up for it.”

Clint looks at Bucky and Bucky looks at Clint and they have a rapid conversation with their eyebrows.

‘Discount?’ Clint asks.

‘Sounds good,’ Bucky replies.

‘You don’t mind… the soulmate thing?’

‘Not if you don’t,’ Bucky replies.

“That’s so sweet of you,” Clint says out loud, beaming at the woman. Then they order, as though nothing important has happened.

*

When they get back to the tower, it’s clear that everyone else in the world thinks something very important indeed has happened and they want to hear all about it.

“Hawkeye! Over here!”

“Mr Barnes! This way!”

“How long have you been together?”

“Hawkeye, how did you melt the Winter Soldier’s heart?”

“What’s it like being soulmates who save the world?”

“Why did you keep your bond secret for so long?”

“Hawkeye!”

“Sergeant Barnes!”

“Bucky! Look this way!”

It’s pandemonium. The doors of Stark Tower seem a lifetime away and Bucky’s got his eyes glued to the ground. Clint reaches out to touch him, feeling the tension in his back and grimacing at it. He leaves his hand there, a firm but unobtrusive presence on Bucky’s back, trying to keep him steady as security guards push paparazzi and buzzing reporters with camera crews out of the way.

“I just have a few questions, Mr Barton,” a woman’s voice calls out.

“Got a few of my own,” Clint calls back. “Like: do you think you could get out of the way?”

“Mr Barton,” she says again and Bucky looks up, finds her face unerringly and glares right at her, shutting her up. He clenches his metal hand, which will never not make Clint’s libido sit up and take notice, but then Bucky - unfortunately - seems to remind himself that it is not polite to punch civilians in the face when they’re technically just doing their job. Even if that job is to invade his privacy and shove microphones at his face.

Sadly, she’s only cowed for a couple of seconds before she beams with delight at having got his attention.

“Mr Barnes, would you say that you were hit by cupid’s arrow?” she says, thrusting her microphone towards him.

“I’ll shoot you with an arrow in a minute, lady,” Clint mutters, reaching out to push the microphone back. “Do you mind? We’re hungry and I was kind of hoping to get to the fridge before Thor cleans it out.”

Usually mentioning Thor to the media is a red rag to the bull. They love him. He’s been voted World’s Most Popular Avenger in five different online lists, much to Tony’s exasperation. But today, it seems, is not a normal day. Today the media have scented fresh blood, and it is theirs. Clint has never thought he’d miss being the world’s seventh favourite Avenger before.

“When did you first kiss?” a man asks from behind them. “Will you kiss for us now?”

The question runs through the crowd, slithering round it like a snake, and then it’s on everyone’s lips. ‘Will you kiss for us?’ ‘Show us some love?’ ‘Secret sniper soulmates snog’ one person says.

Clint reacts instinctively. He can feel the tension in Bucky’s muscles ratcheting up, and he’s always done his best work under pressure, so he lets his instincts take control. He slides his arm from the base of Bucky’s spine to sweep round his waist.

“Sorry guys, but that’s just for us!” he says, and as Bucky glances at him, another volley of flashbulbs go off.

Flash-flashflash - flash

*

What the fuck? Clint thinks, before deciding that question deserves actual air time.

“What the fuck?” he says.

“There must have been someone with a phone at the restaurant,” Bucky says. Clint winces as he looks at him.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t think-” Clint says, cutting himself off, because really that’s all he needs to say.

“It’s alright, we’ll sort it out,” Bucky says with a shrug, readjusting his bags of shopping in his hands. “And we got half price pizza, right?”

“It was good pizza,” Clint agrees. Aw, and when they tell the world that they’re not actually soulmates that waitress is going to hate them and he’s never going to be able to eat there again. This is officially terrible.

“It’s fine, Clint,” Bucky says, looking over at him.

“Yeah… everyone’ll just have a laugh at our expense, we’ll make some sort of statement and that’ll be that.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees.

Clint’s heart is having some sort of rave in his chest at the moment. It can’t seem to decide whether he’s panicking or pining and it’s kind of ridiculous. Clint Barton doesn’t do pining.

That’s a lie.

And he just walked into this weird version of everything he ever wanted to be true, except it’s built on a house of cards and what the fuck is he going to do?

The doors swoosh open onto the common area and a debate in progress.

“I’m just saying that we must have done something to indicate that they couldn’t tell us!” Steve is saying, his hand in his hair, he sounds frantic. “I don’t understand it.”

“Maybe it’s new,” Bruce suggests. “I mean, you can understand them wanting to take some time for themselves. New soulmates tend to-”

“They told a waitress in a pizza place.”

“In Clint’s defence, I think servers in New York pizzerias pretty much are his family,” Natasha says with a smirk.

  
And Clint realises that the others are talking about  _ them _ . And not in a ‘ha ha, isn’t it funny that the world thinks Bucky and Clint are banging’ sort of way, but in a ‘we’re upset our teammates didn’t tell us they were soulmates’ sort of way.

“And we all know Clint kisses people as soon as he meets them,” Tony adds. “There’s no way this is a recent thing, Jolly Green.”

He stares at Bucky, who stares back, shrugging helplessly.

  
“Friends!”

Thor’s voice cuts through whatever chance they have of disappearing back into the elevator and putting off this conversation for… well, forever. 

Huge Asgardian hands drop onto their shoulders and Clint finds himself pulled into a threeway hug, crushed between the solid muscle of Thor’s chest and the solid metal of Bucky’s shoulder, his brain flickering through a million different possibilities.

Thor releases them finally, which is good, because humans have to breathe sometimes, even if Asgardians and super soldiers seem to think of that as an optional extra.

“Congratulations on your good news!” Thor says.

“Uh, thanks, big guy,” Clint says, when it becomes clear that Bucky isn’t going to say anything. “Nice of you to say, it’s just-”

Steve turns to look at them and… oh shit… that’s the ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ face. Clint only knows two ways to react to that face and he already knows he’s going to go with option number two: being a dick.

He’s gearing up to be a complete asshole when Bucky reaches out to touch his shoulder and Clint feels the fight just drain out of him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Steve asks. Bucky stares at him as Clint just blinks. Because there is no way that the others actually believe this, is there? They can’t actually think that Clint and Bucky are soulmates and have been what… hiding it?

“Look, it wasn’t Bucky’s fault, okay? It was mine,” Clint says, jumping in again, his mouth working frantically while his brain just spins its wheels.

“Okay,” Tony says. “So birdbrain, why didn’t you tell us you two were bonded? I mean, if you wanted to keep it private we would have understood, but we could have at least had a plan in place. Do you have any idea how much time we would have saved if you’d told us to begin with?”

Clint was not prepared for this. All his careful arguments of how it was an honest mistake and ‘but pizza’ go out of the window and he has to try to reboot himself to a place where he can first face the fact that he has to explain to his closest friends that it’s all fake.

“Honestly, I know you’re not big on the PR stuff, but I thought that much was obvious,” Tony continues. “And I’m actually disappointed in us. I mean Clint…  _ Clint _ managed to pull one over on us. This is madness. The world has lost all meaning. He posts on twitter when he drops a slice of pizza on the floor. There is no way he should have been able to keep something this big from us. No way.”

Clint’s pride pricks a bit.

“You know he’s a fucking spy, right?” Bucky says, stepping forwards. “You think he hasn’t kept things from you before?”

“Sergeant Whiskers, down boy,” Tony says. “I know he’s your one and only, but the man has no filter. He says everything that comes into his head.”

“And yet, somehow, you didn’t know about this,” Clint says, crossing his arms. 

“Like this is a surprise to anyone,” Natasha says, turning a page in her own magazine. Clint stares at her, feeling betrayed, though he couldn’t say why.

“Nuh uh,” Tony says, whirling on Natasha. “Don’t try that, Miss Charlotte. There’s no way you knew; I saw your face when it came on the news, you were as surprised as the rest of us.”

“Was I?” Natasha asks, looking up with one eyebrow raised.

“Bucky,” Steve says. “I’m sorry if I made you feel you couldn’t trust me with this.”

“Not everything in my life is your business,” Bucky snaps. “None of this is any of your business.” He turns to Clint and nods towards the elevator. “Coming?”

Clint isn’t sure where they are going, but he’s definitely not staying here to face the vultures alone so he nods frantically and darts into the elevator when the doors open.

He gives Tony the finger as the doors close, which is probably childish, but he doesn’t really care.

*

“So,” Clint says, stepping out onto Bucky’s floor, trailing after Bucky with his hands in his pockets. “I can’t help noticing that we didn’t… actually tell them the truth.”

“Yeah…” Bucky says, setting down the bags and pinching his nose. “Sorry. We should go back up and tell them.”

“Or…” Clint says, leaning into what is probably the worst idea he’s ever had. Even worse than highway surfing on that Porsche that one time with the drug runners. “Or… we could not?”

Bucky looks at him.

“Look,” Clint says. “They all think it’s true. All of them. Even Natasha. Do you know how often I know something Natasha doesn’t?”

“Never?” Bucky guesses and Clint grins at him.

“So we just… go with it, for a while. And that way the hype dies down, then we tell them and we tell the world, I don’t know... that some weirdo with a ray gun made us think we were soulmates, or something, and boom, it’s all okay.”

“I think you have a strange definition of okay,” Bucky says.

“Weirder things have happened! Come on, just until New Year, okay?” Clint asks. “We tell everyone at New Year… It’s going to be the best practical joke ever. I mean, this is going to make Tony making all the coffee machines run away from me look so dumb in comparison.” Bucky grins at him, clearly remembering that particular incident. “They think we can’t keep a secret, this is proof we can. It’s like… undercover work, only there’s no one shooting at us.”   
  
“There are always people shooting at us,” Bucky points out and Clint waves a hand. That is true.

“Fine, it’s just like undercover work,” he says. “Come on, it’ll be great!”

And that’s how Clint makes the worst decision of his life.

*

They are trending on Twitter. Clint knows this because Tony points it out with glee. They have a special name and everything. Well, they have three names and there seems to be some sort of online war to see which wins out: Winterhawk, Clintucky, or Clucky. Clint’s kind of hoping for Clintucky because there are so many puns. He’s going to start calling their Mario Kart races the Clintucky Derby for one.

Of course, there are the usual complement of maggots crawling out of the filth as well, and that gets Steve involved, because if there’s anything that starts a Twitter storm quite like simultaneously being a prejudiced asshole and insulting Captain America’s best friend, then Clint hasn’t found it yet.

‘Another example of the destruction of family values!’ one tweet says. Another laments how they are ‘flaunting their unnatural bond’ and then, in between those are sandwiched a whole load of homophobic slurs, some of which Clint has to explain are homophobic slurs, because apparently insults have evolved since the 1940s.

“How does that even make sense?” he asks, frowning at his phone screen.

“Just stop reading them,” Clint tells him. “It’ll just make you angry.”

“At these bozos?” Bucky asks, chuckling, “The only thing this is making me is happy we’re fucking with them. Who goes online and tells people they’re… ‘pevrerted hells porn’?”

“Homophobic dumb fucks,” Clint says. “Did you just say hell’s porn?”

“That’s how they wrote it,” Bucky says, turning the phone around to show him.

“Well that’s a freudian slip if ever I read one,” Clint says, with a grin.

“You’re telling me,” Bucky agrees.

*

Being Bucky’s soulmate is a lot like being Bucky’s friend, probably because they’re not actually soulmates. The only differences are that the rest of the Avengers seem to rearrange themselves so that Clint and Bucky can sit together whenever possible and the outside world seems a lot more interested in them.

On the plus side, Clint sells a load more Hawkeye merchandise, which means his charity of choice - supporting deaf and hard of hearing kids - is getting a fuckton more money, and that can’t be wrong, and he gets to spend a load more time with Bucky, which is pretty much the best thing ever.

Except for that horrid little pang in his chest whenever he remembers it’s not real. 

But Clint’s good at dealing with pain, he’s had a lot of practice. It’s easy enough to distract himself from that when they’re sitting on Bucky’s sofa, watching terrible films as they sip at a couple of beers.

Everything else is the same. When Bucky can’t sleep, he ends up at Clint’s door and makes them both hot chocolate on the hob and listens to Clint tell stupid stories about missions he survived by the skin of his teeth. They still have their weekly contests down on the range, daring each other to make stupider and stupider shots. When it’s just the two of them it’s exactly the same as it always was. It’s only when other people get involved that things get weird.

In team training, Tony insists that it’s not fair to have soulmates on the same team, because everyone knows that the soulbond lets them read each other’s thoughts - to an extent - so they’re not allowed to team up on people, but that means that Clint and Natasha end up on the same team, which ends up being even worse for people and Tony grumbles about it all day.

The only big difference, as far as Clint can see, is that they have a lot more press attention. He can’t leave the tower without a pair of sunglasses, even though it’s the middle of winter, because every time he does he’s assaulted by a volley of flashbulbs. People are begging for interviews with them. The Sharpshooting Soulmates, they keep calling them.

Natasha frames some of the pictures from the magazines and puts them up in Clint’s rooms whenever she feels like it. Clint keeps walking into his bedroom to find his own face smiling back at him, looking at Bucky like a lovesick idiot. He takes them down and hides them in a box under his bed and definitely doesn’t look at them.

The only interview they agree to - after a lot of cajoling from Tony, Pepper and the entire PR team - is the one with the puppies. Clint can’t quite resist, and Bucky seems to like the idea, too.

Clint just lies on the floor laughing as tiny balls of fur with wagging tails walk all over him. Bucky is less relaxed about it, but when one brave puppy ventures over to him and awkwardly clambers into his lap, Bucky lifts his hand - not the metal one, never the metal one - and gently runs one finger along its back, making its tail wag even harder. Clint feels his heart grow two sizes just looking at the expression on Bucky’s face.

“It’s clear just from watching you how deep your bond must be,” the interviewer says. “Why don’t you tell us about it?”

Bucky tenses again and doesn’t look up, petting the puppy - which is now trying to climb up his chest - with single minded determination. Clint opens his mouth and a whole lot of bullshit pours out. It’s a mix of truth and fiction, because Clint doesn’t need to lie even a little about how sincerely in love with Bucky Barnes he is, although it’s amazing what truths you can hide behind a laughing smile. It’s just the physical stuff he has to lie about, and Clint’s life has him well trained in the art of deception.

Bucky looks at him, two parts grateful to one part incredulous, and Clint winks, because why not? He sees Bucky’s eyes narrow slightly before he looks away.

The Winter Soldier doesn’t blush, but Clint thinks maybe Bucky Barnes does a bit.

“So, how about a kiss for all your adoring fans?” the interviewer says. Bucky goes all horribly tense again. It’s clear just how much he hates the suggestion. He gets like that whenever anyone asks them to kiss, and Clint would be insulted if he didn’t know that Bucky feels that way about kissing everyone.

“I would, oh I would,” Clint says, letting his voice carry that hint of a leer that he really hopes won’t make Bucky even more uncomfortable. “But you know, decency laws and just… I get kind of carried away, you know. It’s sort of intense and…” he gestures at the puppy. “Some things little eyes should not be exposed to.”

The interviewer laughs and moves on, and Bucky’s shoulders relax as he turns to smile right at Clint.

That’s the picture that goes around the internet - the two of them smiling at each other, Clint on his back, chest buried in puppies, Bucky cupping one small fluff ball in his hand. It’s a photograph that cuts a bit too deeply into Clint’s psyche. He can see the soppy edge to his eyes and it’s clear Natasha sees it as well, because it’s set as the background on his phone and his computer and pretty much every other electronic device he logs onto over the next week. At least, he thinks it’s Natasha. It could be Tony - or maybe JARVIS is doing it all of his own accord.

Clint eyes the ceiling suspiciously.

He’s interrupted before he asks the all seeing AI about it, though, by Bucky knocking on his door. He knows it’s Bucky immediately, his entire body tuned to the rhythm of that knock. He’d told Bucky once that he didn’t need to knock, but that had ended with Bucky walking in on Clint in what most people would consider a compromising position, and since then, Bucky always knocks.

“Clint,” Bucky says, walking in. He’s holding a big brown box that’s clearly been cut open and then folded closed, and he looks a bit wild about the edges.

“You okay?” Clint asks. It’s not unheard of for Bucky to turn up at his door on the edges of a panic attack, or shaking from the nightmares that plague him, but this doesn’t look like that. He looks more nervous than upset, and he’s avoiding looking at the box in his hands like he accidentally insulted its mother.

As far as Clint knows, Bucky doesn’t often go around insulting the mothers of people, so it’s probably not that.

“These were delivered,” Bucky says. “For us.” He pauses setting them down on the table. “There’s a card. Apparently it’s a free… soulbond gift?” He sounds uncertain about the idea. Clint lights up at the idea of free stuff.

“From who?” Clint asks. Bucky winces and says the name of a company. It takes Clint a second to place it, but when he does, his eyes go wide and he stares at the box. That is definitely the name of a sex toy company. “Right. Holy shit. Right.”

Bucky puts the box down on the coffee table, right next to Clint’s latest arrow shaped masterpiece, and beats a hasty retreat.

“I thought you might… make more use of them than me,” Bucky says. And now they’re both definitely thinking of when Bucky walked in on him getting fucked by that lady with the strap-on. This is why Clint can’t have nice things. Although… he looks at the box speculatively, apparently he can now have free things.

“Uh…” Clint says. “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll have fun.” He almost kicks himself, because that has got to be the worst thing he could have said, but Bucky’s already at the door. “See you…” The door closes behind him. “Later.”

It is indeed sex toys, three kinds of lube and an assortment of dildos, plugs, cock rings, and other various toys. All in all, there’s probably over a thousand dollars worth of stuff in the box, along with a little note addressed to both him and Bucky wishing them happiness and hours of fun with a winky face.

Clint grins, and the looks down at the box again, and then he realises that Bucky is clearly not interested in this kind of thing - which is fine - but as long as the world thinks he’s soulmates with Bucky Barnes, no one’s going to be interested in this kind of thing with him. His life is stretching out as a long path of playing solo…

Clint sighs and sits on the sofa.

He thinks maybe he could be okay with that.

“JARVIS,” he says slowly.

“Yes, Agent Barton.”

“Have we had any other free stuff delivered?”

“Indeed, Agent Barton. The mail room has set aside a section for yours and Mr Barnes’ recent influx of deliveries.”

“Huh,” Clint says.

*

There is so much stuff. Action figures and clothing and watches and a whole host of utterly ridiculous things that no one even needs. There’s a coffee machine in there, too, which Clint is more than happy to take. He might live with a billionaire, but that doesn’t mean he is one. There’s even a company which has started making hoodies of them - Black with one purple arm and one designed like Bucky’s metal one - with the star and everything. They’re thick and warm and Clint pulls his on immediately. Bucky seems to like his, too; Clint catches him wearing it often enough.

On top of that, they get discounts everywhere they go. It seems any meal they eat out or order in is suddenly half price and handed to them with an indulgent smile. Clint doesn’t know why he never ran this con before - back when that was a thing he did. He could have cleaned up. He wonders how many other people there are out there, pretending and just riding the wave of free and discounted products. Of course, most people probably don’t get the same sort of coverage as Avengers do. But still…

Most people also don’t have to go to charity balls and meals and galas.

It’s Christmas, which means everyone in the city seems to be having a party, and everyone in the city wants the Avengers to be their guests of honour. Not a day goes past that some invitation or other doesn’t arrive. Tony throws most of them in the trash, but some of them are rescued by Pepper, who decides which of them should turn up where.

There’s also a whole lot of rock, paper, scissors.

Bucky and Clint usually go to these things together, if only to have someone to talk to, so there’s nothing really different on that front. The only thing that’s changed is that now they have to.

“You two are the best PR we have at the moment,” Tony says, waving his hands between them. “Your little adorable sniper love nest is trending well with everyone except hardcore republicans and the creepy Christians who think it’s okay to picket funerals and use Cap’s face to endorse their limited world view.”

“Yay?” Clint says. He thinks that’s a good thing, although it does come with a slight cloud of guilt over having to explain to people that this is all fake at some point. But, he reasons to himself, he would have had to do that anyway. They’ve just put it off for a bit.

“Do we have to do anything?” Bucky asks, popping a grape into his mouth from the fruit bowl on the table.

“Stand around, look adorably at each other like you always do, shake a few hands,” Tony says. “Don’t worry, Terminator, shouldn’t be anything outside Barton’s limited capabilities.”

Bucky’s gaze hardens and he raises an eyebrow as he turns slowly to Tony. Clint watches with interest as Tony blinks a couple of times.

“Right, sorry - don’t insult Bucky Ball’s boyfriend, got it!” he says. “Down boy. I just meant that a little birdie we both know has a tendency to speak without thinking.”

Clint shrugs, that’s true enough.

“And you don’t?” Bucky says.

“Au contraire, old man,” Tony tells him. “I always think before I speak, it’s just that after careful reflection I usually decide to say the first thing that came into my head because I don’t give a fuck and I have enough money to not give a fuck.”

“Don’t lie to Sergeant Barnes, Tony,” Pepper says, walking in. “It’s not that you have enough money, it’s that you pay other people to care about it for you.”

“Yes, that,” Tony says, snapping his fingers.

“Will there be dancing?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Tony says. “It’s entirely an optional extra. But if you and your boo want to cuddle up and slow dance, I don’t think that will hurt our publicity. Knock yourselves out. Just not… you know, literally, because I know how much Hawkass over there loves head injuries.”

“They hurt so good,” Clint says, deadpan. Bucky shoots him a glare.

“We’ll be there,” Bucky says, his voice final.

*

Christmas parties are all glitz and glamour. The musicians in the corner play medleys of Christmas songs that are almost unrecognisable. Clint doesn’t know how they manage to make Wham! sound classy, but somehow they do.

People keep coming up to them and congratulating them on their bonding, like they’ve got some personal stake in it. Being Hawkeye means that Clint doesn’t see a lot of the fame part of being an Avenger, but now he’s being thrown in at the deep end.

Absolute strangers are talking to him like they somehow have a right to comment on his life. It’s a lot of people Clint’s never met personally telling him how happy they are for him. Clint would willingly bet that you could throw a quarter in this room and hit a person who had no idea who Hawkeye even was before two weeks ago. He doesn’t know if they even know who Hawkeye is now, actually. He shakes their hands, though, and says thank you, fielding the questions that Bucky can’t and they survive.

It’s sort of nice, this thing where they have each other’s backs. It’s sort of exactly the same as always, actually, just now people are congratulating them for it.

Bucky is getting to the end of his rope, Clint can tell in the way his shoulders are creeping up and the tightness of his expression. He’s just pondering what to do about it, when Bucky holds out a hand.

“Dance with me,” he says.

And how can Clint resist?

It’s not a slow dance, which Clint will forever be grateful for, because Bucky in that suit, which hugs the lines of his muscles in tailored perfection, and a slow dance would be a recipe for disaster. Clint has enough difficulty remembering not to kiss him when they’re both bloody, bruised, and filthy after missions, it’s almost impossible right now. The music is an acoustic version of  _ Rocking Around the Christmas Tree _ and Bucky hits the rhythm just right.

Clint’s not a dancer, but fighting and acrobatics mean he at least has control of his limbs.

Bucky, on the other hand, dances like he was born to it. He sweeps Clint off around the dancefloor, gliding from one step to the next with effortless grace.

“You’re good at this,” Clint says as he follows Bucky into something he thinks might be Charleston. Clint doesn’t exactly know the steps, but he can move his feet to a rhythm.

“Missed it,” Bucky says, his smile is small and a bit pleased, like he can’t quite believe he’s remembered how to do this right. Then it grows a little cheeky and Clint finds himself dipping down.

“Well, you don’t have to avoid it, you know,” Clint says with a laugh as Bucky pulls him back up. He knows people are watching them, he doesn’t really care. They’re having fun, and he hasn’t seen Bucky this relaxed in a while.

“Nah,” Bucky frowns, his brows pulling together with that little crinkle Clint always wants to smooth out. “I just… dancing’s a thing, y’know. It leads to things. People expect it to, anyway.” He spins Clint out and back in, and Clint goes with it, narrowly avoiding whacking a senator in the face with his hand. “Back in the… before all the Hydra crap, you’d take a girl out dancing and she’d expect you to, y’know… kiss her.”

“Right,” Clint says.

“It was how it worked. You’d dance and then…” Bucky shrugs. “So I did.”

“But you didn’t like it.”

“I liked the dancing well enough,” Bucky tells him. “Not the kissing, though. Never saw the point in it. Just sort of…” He makes a face and Clint laughs. “Always knew there was something wrong with me.” Clint schools his face quickly.

“No, no I wasn’t laughing… there’s nothing wrong with you, Bucky. I mean, not everyone likes everything. I hate barbecue sauce on pizza; you don’t like kissing.” Bucky doesn’t look at him.

“I don’t hate it, I just don’t… get it…” he pauses. “And since… since I came back, it’s been easier just not to bother with any of it - the dancing, the kissing, the whole thing. But I did miss the dancing.”

Clint spins under Bucky’s arm again before being caught in a hold that has them pressed close together. It’s way too close for Clint’s mind when they’re having this conversation. Bucky’s right there, but Bucky doesn’t want to kiss him. He’s literally said it now. Bucky is totally and completely uninterested. And he’s dancing with Clint because Clint is safe, so Clint is going to stay safe. He can’t control the fact he’s attracted to Bucky, but he can definitely control what he does about that.

“And sometimes I think… maybe…” Bucky says, his voice is so low Clint almost can’t hear it. He can only hear it because of how close they are. But his mind’s still preoccupied with warmth and Bucky and the feeling of Bucky’s hand pressing against his back and the sensation of his own heartbeat reverberating through his body.

“Maybe…” he says, swallowing and looking into Bucky’s eyes, because that seems the safest place to look right now, because if he lets his eyes slip away they’ll look at Bucky’s lips or the line of his throat, or over to where their hands are clasped together, and those places are not safe.

“Oh my word, you two are that adorable Avengers couple, aren’t you?” a voice says, cutting into their dance. A man is standing not two feet away from them, smiling beatifically at them. “Look at the two of you - dancing the night away, so romantic.”

“Well, I’ve got to show my fella a good time,” Bucky says. His voice is almost smooth. There are probably only a handful of people in the world who could tell that he’s not entirely comfortable with what he’s saying, but Clint is one of them. It helps that Clint is still so close to him, so he can feel the way Bucky’s muscles tense at the words.

“I thought I was showing you the good time,” Clint says, with a grin. The man chuckles and his smile grows a little lewd.

“I think you might want to look up, and then you could both be having a good time,” the man says.

Clint does and he grits his teeth as he sees what’s hanging right over his head.

“Aw, no… and we promised we’d be good tonight,” he says. Bucky is frozen, staring upwards at the mistletoe that hangs from the ceiling. Clint curses. He’s usually more aware of his surroundings than this and he’d clocked the mistletoe early on, but he’d been so distracted by Bucky he’d lost… everything. Clint does the only thing he can think of. He raises an eyebrow at Bucky, who nods slightly, then Clint places a noisy kiss on his cheek before turning back to the man who interrupted them.

“That… uh… wasn’t…” the man says, because there’s really no polite way of saying ‘I was hoping you two would make out and I could enjoy the show like the pervy little voyeur that I obviously am.’

“Captain’s orders, I’m afraid,” Clint says, leaning in. “He was very concerned about indecent exposure.”

The man’s eyes grow wide and he looks between the pair of them before making some transparent excuses and hurrying off.

“That’s one thing I haven’t enjoyed about this whole soulmate thing,” Clint says. Bucky looks at him questioningly. “How many pervs there are out there. Everywhere we go, it’s like people are getting the popcorn and just shouting ‘kiss’ at the screen.” He makes a face. “It’s creepy as fuck.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees.

They go back to dancing, though not as close as before, and Bucky seems distracted. Clint hopes that the kiss on the cheek hadn’t gone too far. Bucky had nodded, but maybe he hadn’t known what Clint was asking. And he’d gone and done that right after Bucky had told him how much he didn’t like being kissed. Clint tries to bring the night back on track with his awesome jokes, which Bucky usually at least groans at, but it feels like there’s something missing.

*

The next few days, between that party and the charity gala the following Friday, are awkward. Everyone notices that the two of them are not together.

“Trouble in paradise?” asks Tony.

“Sometimes Bucky just needs some space,” Steve tells Clint with a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“You are not as big an idiot as you pretend to be,” Natasha says without looking up from her book. “You will sort this out.”

Clint doesn’t sort it out and the next gala comes around and he and Bucky are still… rough around the edges. They smile for the camera and they chat, but there’s something stabbing between them. Clint heads for the champagne buffet and makes excellent use of the free booze until he’s just the right side of tipsy, hazy and easy, and the world seems to flow around him.

Right up until he gets slapped around the face by the lady he’s talking to.

“How could you?” she asks. “You have a soulmate!” She’s clearly disgusted with him and she storms away and Clint blinks at the empty space. He hadn’t even been flirting, not really, just chatting like he always does. Although he does usually end up going home with the people he chats to...

He stands with a glass of champagne in his hand and contemplates his life.

Because this Bucky thing is… it’s fake, that’s definite. And it’ll end, but Clint  _ doesn’t want it to end _ . And that’s weird, because as long as it goes on, Clint’s got very little choice but to be celibate apart from the company of his own two hands - and maybe that box of free toys. He’s too famous now for people not to know he’s soul bonded and the only people who would be willing to go home with a guy who’s supposedly happy with his soulmate are not the kind of people Clint wants to pick up. Unless he explains to them what’s going on, or tries to make out that he and Bucky are in some kind of open soulbond situation.

He could do that, Clint supposes. It would be complicated, and add yet another level of lies on top of the ones he’s already living, but if he really needed the sex, he could do that.

He spots Bucky across the room, laughing at something Steve has said. The lighting in the room is set for winter wonderland - twinkling white lights and snowflakes all over the place, and Bucky looks stunning. He looks like the kind of person you find maybe once in a lifetime, and Clint knows that he would be okay with never having sex with anyone, if he could just keep Bucky around.

“Close your mouth, or a lobster will crawl inside it,” Natasha says, coming up next to him. Clint turns to her.

“That’s not a real Russian saying,” he says. She raises an eyebrow.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re over here, staring at him, instead of over there, talking to him?” she asks, taking a sip of her own champagne. They smile politely to a congresswoman who walks past with her husband.

“I’m really screwed this time, Tasha,” Clint says. She frowns at him. “I think I’m in love.”

“Blind tree kangaroos in Australia could see that,” Natasha says.

“Yeah…” Clint agrees. “But I’m like…  _ really _ in love.”

“Good,” Natasha says. “He’s your soulmate, Clint. That’s a good thing.”

Clint opens his mouth, about to tell her everything, when there’s a beeping at his wrist and from Natasha’s necklace and they look at each other.

“What a shame,” she says as they catch sight of all the other Avengers receiving their own alerts. “Looks like we’ll have to cut this short.”

“You enjoy these things.”

“No, I’m just better at faking it than you,” Natasha says. They head for the closest exit, and Clint’s already lost his tie before they even reach the door. Clint almost laughs at her words.

“Yeah… right,” he agrees.

*

The alert turns out to be because some people have decided to celebrate the festive season by holding a bank hostage. Usually that would be a matter for the police, but when one of the bank robbers has the power to grow to twice their size, another one is glowing in a rather disturbing manner, and the third seems to have the ability to teleport, it becomes an Avengers matter.

“Good old fashioned bank heist,” Tony says. “How quaint.”

“Quaint or not, we have people in there with unknown abilities,” Steve says, still zipping up his uniform. “We’ve got to go about this smart.”

“Always,” Tony says. Steve rolls his eyes.

“At least it isn’t the end of the world,” Clint says.

*

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…”

So, it might not be the end of the world, but it turns out that glowing lady registers pretty damn high on the geiger counter and teleport-dude can go pretty much wherever he can see. Which means they have a walking nuclear bomb and a person who can literally be anywhere… anywhere at all.

They’ve almost cleared all the hostages, but based on Bruce’s calculations, if the human glowstick goes boom, they’re looking at Manhattan pretty much ceasing to exist. It’s not Clint’s favourite borough, but he doesn’t want it wiped off the face of the planet.

He’s trying to get a shot, although Steve seems determined to talk her down. Clint’s not really going to put much trust in that right now, though, because she looks very much like she’s about to shoot Captain America in the face.

That’s when he feels the strange change in pressure behind him. Clint spins around to see the other guy, the skinny teleporter, standing right behind him.

“Guys, I’ve got compan-” Clint says, preparing to hit the guy in the face with his bow. But before he can, one hand snaps out to grab his wrist and Clint feels the strangest sensation he’s ever had.

It’s like his whole body twists and stretches and… suddenly he’s not on the rooftop anymore. Suddenly he’s in a room full of little metal doors and a big wall of bars. Bank vault, his mind provides.

“Try shooting us from down here,” the guy says with a sneer. Then he disappears and Clint is alone, in the bank vault. His comms are... Well, he guesses the thickness of the vault walls must make them useless.

Wonderful.

He is reciting his own attempts at epic poetry by the time he sees the vault door start to swing open, which is probably for the best, no one needs to hear that. Luckily, Natasha’s the only one who catches any of it, and she’s heard far worse.

“How long has it been?” he asks.

“Three hours,” she says, just before Bucky steps in right behind her. He crosses over the room in three strides and hugs Clint so tight, he can feel his ribs creak with it.

“In my defence,” Clint says. “Teleporter.”

“You just disappeared,” Bucky says. “We had no idea where you were.”

“About that…” Natasha says, crossing her arms. “Shouldn’t your soulbond have meant that Bucky could find you anywhere?”

“Uh,” Clint says. Bucky’s face goes blank.

*

Natasha takes it well… although she refuses to help them out of their hole. She tells them both that they are morons and walks away.

Afterwards, at least Bucky isn’t distant and strange anymore. He seems to have taken Clint’s disappearance personally, and now he’s determined not to let Clint out of his sight.

Clint would have thought it would be uncomfortable, having someone watching over his shoulder constantly, but it’s not, strangely. It’s nice, like having back up, although Bucky does give a running commentary on how ridiculous Clint’s sandwich making process is.

“You know it has to fit in your mouth, right,” Bucky says.

“Oh, I can fit it all in,” Clint says, and then realises what he’s said, his eyes going wide, because he did not mean to say that - not like that.

“We don’t need to know anything about yours and the bionic man’s sex life, Barton,” Tony says from around the rim of his coffee mug. “Keep it out of the kitchen.”

“That would be unhygienic,” Bucky says, deadpan. “The sofa’s more comfortable, too.”

Tony glares at both of them and shuffles out of the kitchen, muttering to JARVIS about getting a new sofa and Clint turns a smile on Bucky, which Bucky returns. Whatever immunity Clint had built up to that smile over his time as Bucky’s friend seems to have eroded over the past few days of barely seeing him, because Clint’s heart is beating way too fast for just standing in a kitchen. He stares at it for too long, until the moment goes through comfortable to awkward and Clint has to look down at his sandwich, which is listing slowly to one side.

“You put too much mustard in,” Bucky says.

“There is no such thing!” Clint announces before trying to stuff the sandwich in his mouth.

He ends up with mustard all down his front, but the sandwich tastes good, so he’s still calling this one a win.

*

The last party of the Christmas season is on the 24th, and it’s the only one Clint really cares about. There’s a charity set up for the children left orphaned or injured after the Battle of New York and every Christmas Eve they get to party with the Avengers. The venue is decorated in bright, fun colours, every kid gets a present and every year there’s a theme that has nothing to do with religion. This year it’s Alice in Wonderland and Clint’s dressed like the March Hare while Bucky is the Mad Hatter. Everything is multicoloured and teapots and oversized playing cards are hanging down from the ceiling while huge flowers grow up from the ground.

This is the party where Clint gets to be himself, and he entertains the children with acrobatic tricks without once being reminded to show the proper decorum.

He glances around for Bucky and he sees him in the corner, sitting next to a kid - a teenager, really, Clint doubts he’d appreciate being called a kid - who seems to be talking to him earnestly. When Clint catches his eye, he raises an eyebrow in silent question. Bucky’s expression is strange as he nods that Clint should come over.

“Hey guys! Mind if I drop in?” he asks, swinging a chair around next to Bucky and perching on the back of it.

“Oh, sorry Mr Hawkeye,” the kid says. Clint cocks his head to look at him.

“What for?”

“You must… uh, Mr Barnes, I’ve been talking to him and you must want to dance or something,” the kid says, twisting his hands together.

“With this guy?” Clint says, jerking his thumb at Bucky and pulling a face. “Why would I want to do that when there are so many awesome dancers here tonight? This guy’s technique’s still stuck in the 40s.”

The kid laughs, almost as if he’s surprised then starts to speak, stumbling over his words.

“I was just… I just wanted to say thank you,” he mutters, looking at the floor, his hands still twisting together.

“You’re welcome,” Clint says. “What for?”

“For…” the kid looks up, his eyes determined and brave. “For being - like - open about it… about how soulmates don’t have to be all… heteronormative and shit.”

“Oh,” Clint says, his mouth going into a perfect o. He looks over at Bucky, who is shifting uncomfortably.

“You… I never really saw anyone like that before, you know,” he says. “They said that kissing other boys was wrong and that boys couldn’t be soulmates with other boys and-” Bucky snorts.

“Yeah, they’ve been saying that for a long time,” he says. “But it’s still as much bullshit as it was then.” The kid’s eyes go wide at hearing an Avenger swear, then he grins, relaxing in his seat.

“The way I see it,” Clint says. “You don’t know if you don’t try. If you like kissing boys, kiss boys. If you like kissing girls, kiss girls. I mean, only if they want you to kiss them. And if you don’t like kissing anyone, then you’re awesome how you are. Boys can definitely be soulmates with other boys.” He reaches out a hand and Bucky catches it midair, squeezing. And it’s so easy to forget that it’s not real. But at the same time it’s not easy to forget at all because… because that one stupid comment Clint made has had a ripple effect bigger than he ever could have imagined, and when they have to take it back-

“But if I don’t kiss anyone, how do I know who my soulmate is?” the kid asks.

“Soulmates are awesome,” Clint says, “but they’re like… they’re not the be all and end all of life, you know? It’s not about getting a soulmate. If you’re making yourself kiss people just to get there, then you’re kind of missing the point. It’s about being happy. You don’t need a soulmate to be happy. You don’t need a soulmate to be complete. You’re already a whole person. The soulmate’s just like… cool bonus content.”

“Yeah, right,” the kid says. “Aren’t you supposed to be all like… puppy dog eyes and pina coladas or something?” He’s young and Clint remembers being that young and kissing whoever was in front of him. Not that he ever really grew out of that phase.

“People are too damn obsessed with other people’s love lives,” Bucky grumbles.

“Yeah,” Clint agrees, wrinkling his nose. “All anyone seems to want is for us to make out, It’s creepy as fuck.”

They sit there for a little while and the kid talks. It’s still weird to Clint that people see him as some kind of role model. He really isn’t. If anything, he should be the terrifying spectre of what not to do to all these kids. He’s been shot, beaten up, tortured, drugged, thrown off buildings, and pecked by hens. It’s not the sort of life that anyone should be seeing as a how-to manual.

But usually he’s a role model because he shoots stuff with arrows or kicks robots in the head. This time it’s because there’s a photograph of him holding hands with a guy he likes. It’s…

Clint’s really fucked this up.

The kid - whose name is Darren, it turns out - drifts off after a while, dragged away by a couple of friends and Clint starts talking, filling the silence as Bucky sips at a drink and watches him from beneath the brim of his top hat. Clint has the feeling that Bucky wants to say something and he’s not sure what it’s going to be, so he’ll fill up the silence for as long as possible, until maybe he’s figured it out.

Bucky doesn’t let him.

“We need to stop,” he says. The words are stiff and final and Clint sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face and looking over to where Darren is clumsily trying to ask a boy to dance.

“Yeah, I know… but I… fuck, I don’t want to ruin this,” Clint says, waving a hand around at Darren and everything.

“Neither do I,” Bucky says. “But you deserve better. We’ll talk about it later.”

“What do you mean, I deserve better?” Clint asks. “Because I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word ‘better’. In case you haven’t heard - you’re kind of a big deal.”

“You deserve to find your actual soulmate,” Bucky says. “I know you were looking for them. I… saw you looking for them.”

“Bucky-” Clint starts.

“You used to go to places like this and meet people, Clint. Don’t act like I’m an idiot. I watched you. And we both know you weren’t just flirting for the hell of it.”

“I flirt because I am good at flirting, and someone has to at these things. It’s for the good of the Avengers! Steve can’t flirt to save his life. I’m just doing my part to protect Captain America’s honour.” Clint puts his hand on his heart to add to the melodrama. This conversation is way too serious.

“The boat sailed on that one a long time ago,” Bucky tells him. “Clint.” He leans forwards in his seat, his face serious, his eyes fixed on Clint’s. “We both know you want to find them, and you can’t while we’re… while the world thinks we’re…” Bucky shakes his head. “I’m not going to hold you back from that.”

Clint wants to kiss him so bad. His eyes dip down to Bucky’s mouth, which is right there -  _ right there _ \- but Bucky doesn’t want him. That’s never been more clear than right now. And maybe Clint’s had a few thoughts about ‘what if’? Because how could he not when Bucky’s right there and he fits into Clint’s life, like- like a really cool new bow that’s been designed just for him. And Clint thinks perhaps if he could kiss him then maybe…

Bucky clearly thinks otherwise.

“After New Year,” Clint says, feeling very far away all of a sudden, like the ballroom and the party and the music are all happening to someone else. “We can do the… mind whammy thing. It’ll be fine.” He looks out to Darren, who is shuffling from side to side, his hands on another boy’s shoulders. “It’ll be fine.”

*

Christmas Day in the tower is always an event - mainly because Tony’s involved, but Clint hadn’t really thought about how it would be different this year. He and Bucky are practically pushed together and everyone watches them with amusement, particularly when it comes to opening the presents.

Which would be great... if Clint had remembered to get Bucky a present. Because he hasn’t…

In Clint’s defence, it’s been a really weird December. He’d been buying everyone else’s presents - or had ordered them online - before they were overheard at that pizza place, and he just hadn’t been able to work out what to get Bucky. Nothing had seemed right. Then, after that, he’d been kind of distracted. 

He’s not sure that’s going to cut it with the other guys though as they’re all looking around and waiting for him to present some sort of… sappy monstrosity to Bucky and Bucky holds out a small parcel to him.

“Uh… mine’s… I should probably give it to you… not in front of people,” he says, and there is a chorus of disgusted noises around the room. Bucky’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t say anything. Clint can see the question in his eyes, though, and Clint tries his hardest to look as normal as possible. What does normal even look like?

Bucky’s gift to him gets a few raised eyebrows as well. Maybe it doesn’t reach their weird standards of what soulmate gifts should be or something, but Clint thinks it’s pretty perfect. It’s a halloween costume of his own outfit, a mug that says ‘world’s second best marksman’ on it and a pack of drinking chocolate - the really good stuff - which Clint knows is mostly going to be drunk by Bucky anyway. Clint knows exactly which mug Bucky’s going to be drinking it out of as well.

“I do not understand you two,” Tony says, shaking his head.

“I think it’s sweet,” Natasha says, her lips curling into a rather acid smile.

“I don’t know why you accidentally put your mug in here, though,” Clint says, holding it up to Bucky with a practised look of bewilderment. “Did you get confused in your old age?”

“Pretty sure you’re the only one confused about that,” Bucky says, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Pretty sure I’m at the top of the scoreboard, Barnes,” Clint replies.

“Pretty sure you might wanna check that, Barton,” Bucky shoots back. Clint blinks and sits up straight.

“JARVIS? Show the high scores for the range,” Clint says. JARVIS brings them up on the TV screen and, sure enough, there’s Bucky’s name, right at the top.

“You little shit!” Clint says. “That’s it. You, me, range, now.”

“Do not defile the range,” Tony says. “If my bots are robbed of their innocence by-” Clint stops listening, because he’s already dragging a laughing Bucky out of the door.

“So,” Bucky says as they reach the range, “I guess that was a nice move with the… ‘can’t give me my present in front of people’ thing.”

“Uh, yeah…” Clint says, “about that-”

“You forgot to get me one, didn’t you?” Bucky says, shaking his head.

“I… I sort of forgot it was Christmas, what with everything going on,” Clint says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky says. “You can let me beat you to make it up to me.”

“Like hell are you beating me.”

“I guess we’ll see about that,” Bucky tells him. “JARVIS, I think we’ll do Hawkeye simulation five.”

“What?” Clint asks. He looks around as the world dissolves around them into a simulation he has never seen before appears. Plants seem to sprout from the ground, growing into towering trees in seconds. There’s a breeze on his face and he can see the leaves move with it.

“I talked to JARVIS about making something a bit more… fun,” Bucky says. “Like that video game you like - the one with the jumping off things.”

“You and JARVIS made a virtual reality Assassin’s Creed?” Clint asks.

“Well, JARVIS did, I just asked nicely,” Bucky says with a shrug. 

“Merry Christmas, Agent Barton,” JARVIS says. “Sergeant Barnes suggested you might appreciate something Robin Hood themed.”

“Holy shit.”

“So, the aim is to rob from the rich, give to the poor, take down the Sheriff and save the town,” Bucky says, picking up his own bow and some knives. “Think you can handle that.”

“Fuck yes,” Clint says. “So are you the beautiful maiden or the evil Sheriff?”

“I thought I was probably one of the Merry Men,” Bucky says.

“How am I supposed to beat you if we’re on the same team?”

“I will keep track of points scored for gold stolen and redistributed and how many of the Sheriff’s men are captured or eliminated,” JARVIS says. “Extra points will be rewarded for taking down the Sheriff himself or for rescuing civilians.”

Clint grins at Bucky, who is holding a bow like he knows how to use it, which is the sort of thing that Clint really can’t think about - what with his resolution to stop thinking about how much he wants to kiss him. And the simulation begins.

A couple of hours later and Clint has one foot on the simulated Sheriff’s back and he’s aiming an arrow at his head, undisputed top of the leaderboard, no question about it. It’s the best Christmas present he’s ever had, and he didn’t even get Bucky anything. He feels like a complete tool.

As they watch terrible Christmas television, Bucky’s drinking hot chocolate out of the World’s Second Best Marksman mug with a pleased smile on his face and Clint thinks he’s about ready to break himself in two.

*

The week between Christmas and New Year seems to fly past. There are no Avengers callouts, even the villains seem to be suffering that end of year professional apathy, and it’s getting increasingly more difficult for Clint to look at Bucky without wanting to kiss him.

Natasha won’t listen to him talk about it anymore, just shuts her door in his face.

He doesn’t want this to end. Being ‘soulmates’ with Bucky is… well, it’s pretty much everything he’d thought soulmates would be except with less kissing. They spend time together, they hold hands, they touch almost constantly whenever they’re in the same room - and it’s not just Clint initiating it, either. He’s not imagining it; Bucky reaches for him just as much. They are treated as a unit, as though it’s expected that they will back each other up.

And Clint isn’t sure he knows how to go back from this. It feels like he’s had a taste of a forbidden world and he can’t imagine leaving it. He knows he can’t have another soulmate out there, because he knows that there’s no one else who would fit this well with him. He’s fallen in love before, but they’ve never fitted like this. Bucky is-

Bucky is never going to kiss him, and he’ll never know for sure, but Clint is certain that the only thing that’s a lie about this whole situation is that one kiss that never happened.

*

The New Year party is an all expenses paid blow out kind of deal and it always is. Thor brings out the good mead - the stuff that will even get Steve sloppy drunk - and Tony doesn’t skimp on anything. Usually, it’s one of Clint’s favourite nights of the year. This year, however, as the clock sneaks ever closer to midnight, Clint’s on automatic again, perching on Thor’s shoulders as he deadlifts Steve with one leg, still drinking from a tankard in one hand.

Someone decides that a push-up tower is the best idea ever. And by someone, Clint means himself. It is pretty great for about half a minute before Clint, who’s second from the top of the pile, pushes up a bit too hard and sends himself and Natasha sliding right off Steve’s back and onto the floor.

Natasha lands on her feet, as she always does - Clint would swear she’s part cat some days - but Clint ends up on his side and he decides that maybe it’s time to bow out from trying to keep up with supersoldiers and he heads to the kitchen to get another drink.

Bucky’s in there, alone, staring at the worktop. Until Clint comes in, that is, then he stares at Clint instead.

“Hey!” Clint says as brightly as he can manage. “What are you doing in here?”

“It’s New Year,” Bucky says. Clint stares at him.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he agrees. “What’s that got to do with any-”

“We agreed we’d keep going with this until New Year,” Bucky says. Clint’s blood freezes in his veins. He’s not ready. He knows that he never would be, but it still just feels too soon. “So we need to tell them and then things can go back to normal and you can… find your real soulmate.”

Clint opens his mouth and he has no idea what he’s going to say, but he sure hopes it’s something good, because he feels like his life is about to turn some sort of corner. He really doesn’t want it to be a dead end.

“I don’t need real,” he says. Bucky frowns and Clint winces, ruffling at his hair as he chews on his lip. That wasn’t right. “I mean, I already have real… sort of. Shit, Bucky… I…” Clint pauses. “You don’t want me, and that’s fine. I know you’re not into kissing and things, and that’s fine, too. I don’t need you to do any of that stuff. But I think you should know that I don’t want to find someone else, because I’ve already… found you.” He gestures between them. “I guess you should probably know I’m in love with you, huh? Seems like relevant information.”

“Clint-” Bucky starts.

“Nope,” Clint says. “I know what you’re going to say and I know you don’t want any of this. I’m happy with y’know, our awesome friendship. And I wasn’t going to say anything, because I know you’re gonna feel uncomfortable after this. So, just…” Someone outside in the main room is shouting that it’s almost time. Their words barely register.

“Clint-” Bucky says again, and Clint thinks that maybe this might be the time for a tactical retreat.

“Right, I should go now, because this is weird and I am clearly drunker than I thought I was,” Clint says. “We’ll tell them tomorrow. Nothing makes a hangover better than a good dose of honesty.” Then he turns and walks away.

*

Clint weaves between the people outside, who are all watching the TV as the countdown’s ready to start. A new year is about to begin and Clint’s starting as he means to go on by running the fuck away.

He’s halfway across the room when Bucky catches him by the shoulder. He can tell it’s Bucky for a million different reasons, but he’d be lying if he said the main one wasn’t because the hand on his shoulder is made of metal. That’s always a clue.

He turns with a smile.

“Hey,” he says and Bucky frowns at him.

The countdown begins.

“Clint,” Bucky says. “I think I want to try something.” His hands go up to Clint’s neck, warm and solid and gentle. Clint knows Bucky would barely even have to try if he wanted to kill him right now, but Clint’s not scared of those hands. He can’t be scared of those hands when Bucky’s got that look on his face: like he’s scared and excited and about to jump off a cliff, hoping Clint will catch him.

“Yeah?” Clint asks, his voice rough. The people around them are shouting out numbers a nanosecond faster than the voices on TV.

“I think…” Bucky says. His voice is muffled by the voices around them, but luckily Clint’s good at reading his lips. He’s had enough practice. “I think maybe I should kiss you now.” Clint doesn’t know how to respond to that, because he is so sure that Bucky doesn’t  _ want that _ .

“You don’t have to,” he says weakly, even while he’s kicking himself internally. Bucky’s expression turns soft and rueful.

“That’s kind of why I want to,” Bucky says. 

“Okay,” Clint agrees, crumbling. He has no resistance left.

The countdown reaches one, and Bucky surges forwards.

It’s far from Clint’s first New Year kiss. He’s had all of it before: the cheers around him, the confetti falling from the ceiling as people cry out ‘Happy New Year’. But that doesn’t matter.

Clint has never had a kiss like this before. It’s like… fireworks. Something is flowing through him, golden and sparkling, thrumming through his blood and his bones and his soul, and he feels himself expand and his senses extend beyond him.

The physical sensation of the kiss, the surge of joy and wonder at the touch of their lips - because this is  _ Bucky _ kissing him - is only the start. He can feel this from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair. Every single molecule in him is on fire, but he’s not burning. It’s more like he’s  _ made _ of fire all of a sudden. Every part of him is heat and light and  _ hope _ . Hope is a sudden physical sensation. It feels like he imagines starlight must feel. It feels like fairy dust and happily ever after.

This is what they meant. This is what all the fairytales and movies and sappy romance novels meant. He can sense Bucky, and he can sense Bucky’s wonder and joy and astonishment reflected right back at him and Clint tries not to push, because he knows that this isn’t- but Bucky deepens the kiss of his own accord and Clint can’t help but respond and he reaches for all those starlight feelings of hope and he tries to give them right back to Bucky.

It’s a huge feedback loop and Clint doesn’t even realise they’re still kissing, because honestly, that part of it is just… so minor compared to everything else, until he hears someone clearing their throat and he looks around to see Natasha watching them.

“Good to see you’ve finally worked it out,” she says, looking between them. “Maybe you should take this elsewhere before you give people a show.”

Clint can feel Bucky’s apprehension at the idea immediately, like a slap around the face and he pulls back.

“Holy shit, you guys really weren’t kidding about it not being for little eyes,” Tony’s voice says.

“Right,” Clint agrees, because he can feel Bucky shutting down. Through their bond. Their soulbond. Holy shit. “We’re just going to…”

“Get a room!” someone shouts and Clint gives a grin and a thumbs up, and beats a hasty retreat, Bucky following after him.

Clint can feel Bucky inside him, clear as anything. He can feel that Bucky’s happy and confused and hopeful. It’s the hope more than anything that makes Clint smile, because he’s spent so long feeling that Bucky doesn’t want him, but now he can see that’s far from the truth.

They get to Clint’s rooms and Bucky turns to him.

“What the fuck, Clint?” he says, his eyes wide. “What the fuck? I’m-”

“You’re perfect,” Clint says. “It’s perfect that it’s you. Of course it’s you. I’m so fucking glad.” He can’t keep the words from his mouth or the smile off his face. He feels like he’s bursting with it. He reaches out for Bucky and Bucky meets his hand half way, grabbing it and holding on like it’s his only lifeline. “Holy shit, it’s you.” He’d suspected, but feeling it like this, feeling Bucky this way, is something completely different from anything he’d imagined.

He can feel that Bucky  _ wants _ , and he can feel Bucky’s frustration at not being able to ask for it, and Clint pulls him forwards and kisses him again, letting Bucky’s feelings guide his actions.

“It never felt like that before,” Bucky says. “I didn’t… is that what kissing’s supposed to feel like?”

“No,” Clint says. “I mean yes… Yes, this is what it’s supposed to feel like, but it’s not what it feels like with anyone but you.”

“I’m not… you need things and I don’t know if I can give them to you,” Bucky says. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to want that.”

“All I need is you,” Clint says.

“Clint…”

“I can feel you,” Clint says. “Can you feel me?” Bucky nods. He looks shaky and unsteady like one push in the wrong direction and he might fall apart. “Do I feel like I’m lying about that?” Clint asks. Bucky shakes his head. “Then trust me, okay?”

Bucky looks at him, and Clint breathes a sigh of relief as he feels Bucky’s emotions calm to something more solid, more  _ Bucky _ .

“So… looks like we didn’t lie after all,” he says.

“Yeah,” Clint says with a grin. “That’s good, because I really wasn’t looking forward to making Cap cry.”

“Although… they’re gonna be really confused when we celebrate our first anniversary,” Bucky says, smirking. Clint grins back. “Maybe we could fuck with them… just a little bit more.”

“See,” Clint says. “I knew you were perfect for me.”

Bucky, with a feeling of incredulous anticipation, leans in to kiss him again and Clint goes with it.

It feels just like the first time, and Clint is swept up in it, clinging on to Bucky’s shoulders and then his back and just losing himself in the sensations that are coming from both of them. He’s floating in this hazy cloud of elation and fascination as they take their time to explore. Clint dedicates himself to finding every single place in Bucky’s mouth that makes their connection sing out with pleasure.

“So,” Clint says, when they finally pull apart. “This was definitely my best idea ever.”

“Pretty sure this was my idea,” Bucky says, leaning back with his hands behind his head, looking at Clint like he’s the best thing Bucky’s ever seen. 

“Nope,” Clint says. “This whole soulmate thing was definitely my idea.”

“But the kissing part was mine,” Bucky says.

“But we wouldn’t have got to the kissing part without my brilliant idea to pretend to be soulmates. You can’t take all the credit for just coming in at the end and-  _ mmph _ .” Bucky’s lips cover his and Bucky is a damn fast learner, because he’s using those lips to take Clint apart with systematic dedication until Clint’s head is just full of happy fuzzy feelings.

“What were you saying?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Best idea ever,” Clint says kneading the muscles of Bucky’s shoulders almost unconsciously.

“Well, at least we can agree on that part.”

Bucky leans down to kiss him again and Clint knows it’s true that they’re soulmates for a reason and there’s no way he’s ever going to need anything more than Bucky, whatever he wants to give him.


End file.
